So, the good news bought millions of you down here in numbers that KILLED THE SITE FOR 24 HOURS!!!!!!!!!
But never mind.
IT IS OUT!
THE OMEGA SANCTION IS A PHYSICAL ENTITY!
A bunch of you got yours in your post boxes today. The rest should show up early next week.
My chest is thundering - The Omega Sanction digital download has flown the cooop, and is Out There, in the 6th dimension.
MP3: £4.41. MP3 + T-Shirt - £13.99
Preorderers have been sent the link - if, for some Gmail related reason, you pre-ordered and you haven't gotten it, email me and I'll sort you out.
I was sickened in the stomach to not get the CDs delivered today... My CD pressing people have been Longing Me Off, which is technical speak for Not Delivering On Time... however, my glamorous assistant has been, um, persuading them to try harder, and we are promised delivery mid-next week. So hold tight, and don't hate me, I have been trying REALLY HARD, wah wail weep etc.
Good news though - your stickers turned up on time (at the wrong address, but on time), and they're gorgeous.
So, there were a bunch of updates and pictures and things, and they got wiped! Oh, the tragedy. So, a recap. On my last day on Rivington Street I saw a white thug in an open-top Hummer drive by blasting out 'I Want The One I Can't Have' and nodding along with a serious expression about his face.
Then we went.
Wade and I ended up on the coach, as there was no room in the van, or car. We got there early, and checked out the scene. The scene is small.
We don't actually live in Woodstock. We live in Shandaken, outside. Well, just outside. Half way up a mountain, hidden away by forest, amongst bears and chipmunks and what have you. In a big old dusty house full of weird porn and broken stuff, with brown water and giant ants. Like, there's a jacuzzi, but it doesn't seem to work. There is the biggest TV you've ever seen, but it's got a big black tear across the front and doesn't tune properly. It's a two hour walk to the nearest shop, whihc is a petrol station, and does a good line in biscuits. The local girl's got a lot of guns.
It is very lovely to look at up in Shandaken. Mountains covered in trees, mainly. Streams. Clouds so low you can jump up and punch them.
I miss Wade, who is back in London sorting out affairs. All my stuff is in boxes.
So I fell alseep on the sofa after 5, and was awakened gently by Super Phil at 6:20, and it transpired Bird left my bag with my passport in it at the venue last night. But Bird's got me another ID card, so we're outside waiting for Jeff to pick us up at 6:30. And at midday we're in LA, and soon after that we're in Interscope's offices,and I'm filling a bag with Nirvana, Guns N Roses, Gilbert And Sullivan, Dre, Peter Gabriel, Police and other such back catalogue. Jimmy Iovine has a signed letter from Tupac and a video console that won't switch on. And loads of ideas. A balcony. A lush view. LA is lush to look at, from these places of advantage. Like, later we visit Jeff and Trent's, and there's this fucking alien cat that loves me, and an incredible, incredible view, of this desolate wilderness spattered with money.
It was a lovely day.
But in the nighttime it is hard not to see that LA is awash with cunts. It is a sad and massive amount of cunts, and I am not sure whether it is sad because this is what the world did to them, or because this is what they do to the world, or because they are cunts, and you can see their faces rotting right in front of your eyes.